Shadowman
by pinazee
Summary: The killer comes back to the scene of the crime after he left evidence in the alley. It should have been an easy pick up but a CSI had already gotten it. Now neither of them can stop thinking about the other-for different reasons.
1. Alley's are no place for a crime scene

...I know. I should finish my first CSI story (or my psych one for that matter) but i got inspiration for this one. I feel terrible but i promise I'll finish the other ones...eventually. Thanks for reading. :)

Disclaimer: own nothing of CSI. sadly.

**Authors Note:** This has nothing to do with my first CSI story. It was just a thought bubble that came to me yesterday and it just sort of built itself. Love it when that happens. It makes it so much easier for me. :P Also, I had to used WordPad to type this up so my editing is not so impressive. I went over it myself a couple hundred times but i guarantee you will find a mistake here and there. Sorry :(

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><p>They got the call two hours ago and they still weren't done packing. Theresa and Marley Steidbaker were reluctant to move away from their home. They had raised their son Jeff there for six years- taught him how to ride a bike on the sidewalk out front, healed his fractured arm after he slipped on the bottom stair, and celebrated his 12th birthday only just a month ago. However, they could not stay in plain site. He was sure to come. And soon. The fear for their sons life far out reached the nostalgia they had for their home.<p>

Theresa had already packed her sons belongings and began to help her husband pack their clothes next. That's when they heard a crash. They were too late. Theresa left the bedroom and ran to find her son, shaking all over. As she was running down the stairs she heard a shot and stopped where she was. She was too late. Tears fell from her face as she realized that she could no longer hold her son. Around the corner, two men were walking towards her. Barely able to see, she stumbled up the stairs and ran into her husbands arms. They locked the bedroom door and tried to go out the window.

The steps in the hallway got louder. Marley shoved the window open and held it up as his wife tried to climb out. He looked over at the door urging with his mind to stay closed. His wife was shaking so much she couldn't keep her balance to go over the sill.

"Theresa, look at me," whispered Marley. She slowly turned around. Thats when he realized he did not know what to say and decided to close the silence with a kiss. They broke apart and looked into each others eyes knowing this was possibly the end.

She began to climb back out onto the sill and sat on the edge. Marley looked over at the door again. There was a shadow creeping underneath the door. Theresa looked over her shoulder at the door as well.

"Marley I can't leave you!" cried Theresa.

"You have too! I... I will meet up with you later. Our place. I promise," he said. She knew in his voice that he had no plans to keep that promise.

Just then, the door slammed open and a shot rang throughout the house, the sound reverberated it's haunted message of death.

15 minutes later a piercing scream awoke the neighbor three doors down. Unsure of what she heard, she sat up and listened closely. _POW_

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><p>Nick and Greg arrived to a newer two story off-white house. It looked just like any suburb home- complete with gossip. The family had arrived suspiciously six years ago, according to the neighbors, and was rarely seen. Even their child was home schooled. After two years of constant invitation declines they gave up on trying to know them and decided to make it up themselves. They were going to do that anyways.<p>

Nick and Greg pulled the tape over their head and walked up to Brass.

"Triple homicide. Neighbor woke up when she heard someone screaming and a shot. Mom was found outside on the concrete, one shot to the back. The dad was found in the bedroom. He's the messiest. The son was found in the living room- one shot to the head. They don't have any relatives but the husband has an ex-wife. She's talking to Officer Thomas over there," Brass pointed behind the tape at a tall dark haired woman with sharp green eyes and a hangover to boot. "We are going to take her to the station for questions. Davids with the dad right now."

"Thanks Brass," said Nick. Brass nodded and walked back to the officer. The neighbors, having seen the cop cars, swarmed like vultures as they tried to once again fill their average lives with excitement. So much in fact that Brass had to push them all back as they each tried to see what was happening. Nick looked behind and laughed dispite himself. People were so predictable sometimes.

"Hey Greg, why don't you process the mom and I will take the dad," suggested Nick.

"Sure," said Greg and they set off in different directions. Nick climbed the stairs and began pre-searching the area for any obvious clues. Then looked around for the parents bedroom.

"Hey Super Dave, ooooo," Nick winced seeing the blood surrounding the man on the bed. David was kneeling next to the man and pulling out the needle from his liver.

"Yeah, this guy was definantly alive when his finger was clipped off. Time of death is approximately 3 hours ago, same as the others. COD is a gunshot to the heart. If you look at his right fist you will see a significant amount of bruising and teeth impressions. You might get saliva." Dave carefully got up to make sure he didn't step in the evidence.

"Thanks," said Nick and he got to work. He took pictures of the body and surrounding areas. Then he began looking around the room. He first noticed that the door had been broken around the lock. He processed the door handle and moved on to the window. He looked out and saw the wife positioned at an odd angle on the concrete and Greg taking photographs. He looked at the top of the window and saw a fiber stuck in between the wood and glass panel. He put it ina small manilla envelope and put it in his vest pocket. He looked around the room, theorizing in his mind how the night had previously gone.

_The couple was escaping upstairs. Killer busts through the door and shoots the wife. She falls out of the window and dies instantly. The dad, outraged, springs at his attacker and punches him in the face. The killer pushes him onto to the bed and hold him down while he chops the finger off. Then as the killer leaves he turns around and shoots the man in the chest._

Satisfied with his conclusion, he moved over to the dresser and began to look for motive.

Meanwhile, Greg had finished processing the woman and began searching around the outside of the house for clues. He looked over to the left of the house and saw boot prints going towards the back gate. He walked over and snapped some pictures of the shoe impression in the dirt and followed the boots to the gate. He saw that the latch had been busted off and deduced that this was probably the point of entry and exit. He opened the gate and looked at the ground to see that the bootprints led off to the right. Greg looked over his shoulder, contemplating bringing an officer with him. However, both the officers and Brass were trying to contain the nosy neighbors and News stations as well as control the Ex-wife, who had began to show off her dance moves she had used to grab her ex husbands attention. Greg smiled and decided he would be fine and left the scene. He followed the boot prints until they had completly faded away, then began to look around the alley. He thought that perhaps the killer had disposed of the weapon on his escape out.

He was now about 100 feet away from the scene when he noticed a tooth lying next to a trash can. He took a picture of its position and looked over his shoulder. It was possible that this tooth had come from the killer. He leaned over and bagged the tooth and placed it into his vest pocket.

He didn't see him. Didn't feel the presence that had lurked around the corner watching silently. Didn't notice the shadow that had been casted behind him. Not until it was too late. As Greg got up, he turned around only to be face to face with a dark figure and immediantly knocked back to the ground with a single blow to the side of his head. Everything went black.

The figure kneeled down and undid Gregs vest. Another figure held up his arms as they slipped the unconcious investigator out of his only protection. The figure was about to leave with his friend when he had a sudden change of mind. He glanced down at the still man and realized an oppurtunity he had not had in 10 years. He looked around him for prying eyes and leaned next to the mans face. He kissed the strangers neck and felt a sensation he had not felt in a long time.

Gregs slowly came back from dark. His first sensation was his pounding head. His second sensation scared him more. A hot breath was pressed against the left side of his neck. He was not sure of what was happening to him but he wanted it to stop. He opened his eyes and remembered why he was lying on the ground in the first place. Everything was blurry, his vision was swimming around and the lights never seemed more intense. He tried to move his arms but the message from his brain to his arms never reached it's target. He was stuck beneath this shadow. Though he could feel everything, his mind was not fully registering what was happening to him.

The figure looked down at the man he had found. Pleasure seeped through his very veins as he felt the curves of the mans stomach, seen the soft heaving as he breathed, and tasted his gentle neck. He ripped off the mans blue plaid button up shirt to get a better look only to be blocked by a white undershirt. He smiled at himself. It felt like the man was teasing him. Meanwhile the second figure kept watch but insisted that they should get out of there now. The shadow ignored his advice and continued to memorize every curve of the man below him. Just as he was unbuttoning his pants they heard a shout down the alley.

"damn it!" he whispered. He looked down disappointedly noticing for the first time that the mans eyes were wide open but still out of it. He smirked to himself and leaned in next to Gregs ear.

"Until next time," the shadow said and kissed his ear. He pushed off his knees and took off running with his partner as the shouting got louder.

"Greg?" shouted Nick. He was getting worried but he knew it wouldn't be the first time that Greg had followed the evidence away from the scene. He looked down the alley and noticed a figure lying on the ground. Panicking, he ran to it only to hatefully admit that his worry was fitting. He found Greg dazed with a swelling temple. He called into his radio for backup and medics.

"Greg are you okay?" asked Nick as he helped Greg lean up against the wall. Greg slowly nodded his head, able to finally comprehend that he did in fact exist and was no longer in the black. Nick looked around to see that the paramedics were running towards them.

"Which way did he go?" asked Nick , fully raged and ready to shoot someone. Greg nodded his head to the left and Nick took off running. Greg looked down to see that his shirt was unbuttoned. _Funny_ he thought. He was sure he had buttoned them earlier. then he looked down and saw that his pants were unbuttoned as well. Thats when it hit him. Figure on top, the hot breath against his neck, the hands against his body- it all hit him at once. He began to panic. He heard the men running to his aid and quickly made up his mind. He buttoned his pants and his shirt quickly to hide any evidence that he might have been- he couldn't even bring himself to say the word. Brass came running up next to Greg.

"you okay?" Asked Brass a little out of breath. His body was not what it used to be. Greg nodded once more trying to mask the growing hysteria.

"Where'd Nick go?" Greg pointed towards his left. Brass motioned to an officer and they ran in that direction. Greg just stared at the wall opposite him as the paramedics looked at his wounds. As soon as they touched him however he flinched and pushed them away.

"Don't touch me!" Greg shouted. He looked at their startled faces. "I-I'm fine really. I just need to go lie down somewhere." The paramedics looked at each other.

"Mr. Sanders we need you to come with us. Can You walk?" Greg stood up slowly finally realizing just how dizzy he was. He almost fell back to the ground but was supported by one of their hands. He looked down at the hand, his heart pounding, and convinced himself to allow them to help them. Reluctantly he went with them, trying to stay as normal as possible but the ramifications of the maybe-attack dug deeper than he thought. Now all he had to do was convince himself that nothing happened. This was one of those days that he wished he could ignore the details.

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><p>About an hour later Greg was sitting on the back of the ambulance with a blanket over his shoulders and an ice pack against the side of his head. Sara walked up to him and gave him a hug. Greg winced.<p>

"Easy there Sara," said Greg. She let go of him and examined his wounds.

"What were you thinking?" she said frowning. Greg came into focus and looked hard at Sara, trying to concentrate on her face. His mind was still swarming with questions though, and it was increasingly hard to pay attention.

"I..uhh," he blinked a couple times trying to remember why he had gone in the alley in the first place. "i was following boot prints." _Something that seemed so simple _he thought.

"Greg, you know you are supposed to bring an officer with you if you leave the scene. It's protocol. It's how we prevent things like this from happening. You could have been killed." Greg looked at her expecting to see anger in her face but only saw fear and worry. He smiled at her to ease her nerves though inside he had nothing to smile about.

"They were busy and I didn't think the killer would come back. By the way, I think it's safe to assume I did not, in fact, inherit my Grandmothers third eye,"smiled Greg. Sara smiled back.

"I'm glad you are okay," she said as Nick walked up next to her.

"He got away but we got officers searching every crevice in the neighborhood for him. We're pretty sure it was the killer. They took all the evidence that Greg had on him and deleted the photos he had on the camera which they threw across the alley." said Nick as he glanced at Greg.

"I was here to check on Greg but I brought my gear to help with the scene."said Sara

"Thanks. Could you process Greg and the alley? I didn't get to finish the house," said Nick. Sara Nodded. "Hey Greg, how you holding up?"

Greg looked up at him. "Peachy," he said sarcastically and stared at the ground again. Nick smiled at him sadly but noticed that his shirt was buttoned in the wrong spots. He walked away puzzled but didn't say anything. It might just be his imagination. He was, afterall, in a state of stress at the time so it was possible that his shirt had been buttoned that way the entire time.

Sara began processing Greg as Brass came over to find out what had happened.

"Hey Greg how do you feel?" asked Brass concerned.

"Just grand," he said wincing as Sara prodded his bruised head with a swab.

"Sorry," she said. "You are going to have to remove your clothes when we get to the lab." Greg nodded, knowing the procedure.

"So Greg, can you tell me what happened?" asked Brass. Greg sighed and closed his eyes to concentrate.

"I was following boot prints. You and the other officers were busy and I didn't think there was any danger so i followed them into the alley. I uhh, found something i think, i don't quite remeber what it was but it was small. I placed it into my vest and stood up. Then there was just a sharp pain and total blackness. The next thing i know theres a shadow over me and it-" Greg hesitated as he debated whether or not to tell them about the breath against his neck. Brass and Sara looked at each other concerned. They knew the difference between stalling and a lapse in memory. Greg was thinking about lying to them. "He whispered in my ear something, I don't remember and ran off. Then Nick came up to me and you know the rest." Sara finished with the scrapings under his nails and put her stuff back in her container.

"Thanks Greg. If you remember anything else let me know and take it easy. You are lucky to be alive." Brass smiled at him and walked away. Greg looked curiously at Brass wondering just how lucky he really was.

"You going to be okay here by yourself? not going to go chasing shoe prints again?" asked Sara. Greg looked at her but didn't return her smile. She patted him on the shoulder and went to the alley.

Greg sighed and pulled the ice pack off his head. Should he have told them that he thought he might have been- The word was like poison on his tongue. No, had he told them they would have done an SAE kit on him and he wasn't sure if he wanted the answer to that question. He couldn't handle it. No one would treat him the same ever again and he had already gone through that after the Demetrius James incident. It was best if no one knew he decided. He wished _he_ didn't know.

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><p>Sara looked around the alley for evidence. She wanted to catch this psycho before he killed someone else. She knew how lucky Greg was to be alive. Most likely the attacker was the same killer from the triple homicide and he clearly had no problem killing children. She could only imagine what could have happened to Greg; though she desperately tried to keep her mind from going there.<p>

She photographed the area where Greg was attacked and searched for any trace of either Greg or his attacker but nothing was standing out. She sighed and moved on to the other side. That's when she looked down and saw what looked like a button from Gregs shirt lying on the ground. She photographed it and picked it up, staring at it, willing it to explain how it got there. But it was just a button not a suspect. She placed it in a bag more upset then ever. She didn't want to find questions; she wanted to find answers.

Later that day, Greg had gone to the lab and handed over his clothes after changing into his spares in his locker. A nice bruise was beginning to show on his right cheek where he collided with the pavement. He knew this was going to happen despite the bruise but the stares hurt nontheless. He was now sitting in the locker room feeling numb. All the energy he had earlier, despite the already low amount, had completely vaporized. He didn't even have the energy to think.

"How you doing Greg?" asked D.B, startling Greg from his reverie. He looked over to the elder man and mustered up invisible energy to speak.

"Fine," he said simply and began to stare once more into his locker. D.B came over and sat next to Greg.

"I'm glad you are okay. I was told that your evidence was taken. I assume everyone believes the killer came back?" Greg nodded. He really didn't want to talk right now. "Then you are quite the lucky one Greg. The man had no problem killing a child for petes sake I'm sure he would have had no problem killing you." Greg looked over at him confused. Was this D.B's way of trying to console him? "Oh, I don't mean you wouldn't put up a fight just that morally he wouldn't have a problem."

"Greg!" smiled Morgan relief flooded her face but instantly turned it into a professional manner. She stood awkwardly in the door. "Glad you're okay. I'd hate for you to die before you could pay me back." She cleared her throat and walked away. D.B smiled at Greg who had a puzzled expression on his face.

"i like her," he said and walked away, leaving greg alone once more. As he stared at the contents of his locker agains a strange sensation crept over him. A memory. He closed his eyes to concentrate when he felt the words penetrate his very core-

_Until next time_.

Greg shuddered. This wasn't over.

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><p>More to come! I have the general story completely planned out (which is a step up from my other which i am completely making up, one chapter at a time.) and i plan to have it all typed up soon. Well, we will see how that goes :P<p>

Thanks for reading!


	2. Nightmares and Fantasy's

**A/N:** I had every intention of finishing my PsychFic, but this just kept nagging me. And so, to let you guys know that I haven't given up on this story, I'm posting a chapter when i shouldn't because all of my information- the entire plot of the story- was lost when my computer crashed. Thanks to everyone who reviewed/followed/favorited and just read in general. I quite enjoy knowing people in cyberspace found my little corner of weirdness.

I want to prepare you now though, my next update could either be within the next week, or the next year. I'm really bad at updates.

Disclaimer- If i owned it, would i be on here?

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><p>Nick was never particularly fond of the morgue. He wasn't particularly fond of dead bodies for that matter. However, Of all the things inside that dark cold basement, what bothered him the most was not the mangled up bodies they came across, nor the autopsy's he sometimes witnessed, but the reminder that came with it; we are fragile. You never know when your time will come, and in the end our bodies that house our souls, something so precious to us, is nothing but meat. Coming inside that room somehow always made him depressed and thankful at the same time.<p>

As he swung the doors open he was immediately greeted with the strong stench of rotting flesh which with years of practice, only made him wince on the inside. Doc Robbins had already done the autopsy's on the 3 Steidbaker's and was now waiting patiently at his desk with the paperwork.

"Hey Doc." Said Nick as he arrived at his desk.

"Hello Nick. You came right on time. I was just about to page you." Doc got up from his chair, leaning heavily upon the cane he used. Every year he got older Doc Robbins whole heartily believed, that if his leg continues to get more useless, he was going to chop it off himself and replace it with something more handy- like a broom, or a putter. He was only a couple years from retirement now, and Dave was now sufficient enough to have his own assistant so he wasn't too desperate as to start chopping off limbs. Tonight was particularly painful though. His leg always acted up when he had a child on the table. The unfairness of it all never went away, not even after 32 years of leaning over that slab.

Doc Robbins lead Nick to the child and said, "Well I'll start with him first. COD was the gunshot to the head and it should bring a little consolation that he didn't suffer. I was also able to retrieve the bullet." He reached towards a small silver tray and handed him the container.

"Looks like a 40 caliber but it's hard to tell with how banged up it is. It bounced around in his skull before sticking to the occipital lobe. Other than that, the kid was healthy. Just a healed fractured arm but nothing to suggest any kind of assault. The parents however, had a more colorful past then their suburban home led on." Doc now walked to the foot of the slabs containing Marley and Theresa with cheap white sheets covering them from the chest down.

"Both of them had track marks up and down their arms suggesting heavy users. But they are quite old, between 10 and 15 years."

"So around the kids age." Nick said sadly.

Doc lowered his gaze to the womans blank expression. "Most likely they cleaned themselves up for the baby's health."

"Well if they got themselves cleaned up they must have gotten help. There might be some information at a rehab clinic. Though it will be hard to get any. What else have you got?"

Doc walked around to the man and raised his fist. "There is substantial fractures in his right hand on the knuckles and what looks like teeth impressions as I'm sure you are aware of. However, and this is quite new to me, I found a small skin pocket on his hand." Nick arched his eyebrows in surprise.

"A what?"

"A skin pocket, between his middle and right index finger. This is something you might see in a piercing, but if it was, it's none I've ever seen before. You could literally put something small inside it, like a pearl, and nobody would know the difference. It must have been pretty painful to get though, it's sliced through some pretty sensitive nerves."

"Is this something you can get by accident?"

"Normally I would say yes, but there is no evidence to suggest the rest of the hand was that damaged and it's position would be pretty hard, though not impossible, to slice open. It could be either though personally my guess is that he did it himself."

"Well they were users, maybe he hid his emergency stash there." Although Nick had a feeling that it was used for something much less recreational.

"Kind of small for a serious user but possible."

"Anything else Doc?"

"Nothing that you don't already know."

Nick grabbed his paperwork and started walking out the door when Doc asked, "Hey when you see Greg, let him know I'm really glad he's not on my table right now." Nick nodded. "Oh and keep him out of alleys would you? They say third times the charm." His face was solemn. Nick nodded again a bit more tense than the last and walked out.

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><p>Sara meanwhile, was assigned another case after finishing the Steidbaker house. What looked like a robbery gone terribly wrong. The victim was 76 year old Louisa Day and she was found amidst her scattered and trashed living room lying in a pool of blood with a single gun shot to the head. As Sara scanned what remained of her torn home, she saw bits and pieces of Louisas life. Hanging crooked on the wall was a picture of her, who she assumed was her husband, and her daughter all with tight grins from the long hour at a professional studio. He was resting a hand awkwardly on her slender shoulder, she was placing a gentle hand on her daughters. The resemblance between the mom and her 10 year old daughter is easily seen. Both had lovely pale blue eyes, thick golden blonde hair, and petite figures. Sara looked down at Louisa now. Even amongst the blood and trash, she could see the loveliness the woman possessed.<p>

Sometimes Sara would create a fantasy world of her victims. In the beginning she would find bits and pieces of their lives and string them together in a web of pure happiness. Families were her weakness. In a case where a father was found murdered, Sara would see family pictures and refrigerators filled with calendar dates circled and artwork achieved through finger painting, and she would imagine them sitting down for a family dinner discussing what happened at school or at work. She would imagine them going out to the movies together, parent teacher conferences, or singing campfire songs on the backyard while roasting marshmallows over a grill. They would laugh together, help each other, and do other normal family things. Her favorite fantasy, was picturing them watching TV together, perfectly content with just being in each others company. No words would be necessary. Just a man leaning over to give his wife a kiss, just to see her smile, and the kids smiling too because they want to have what they did one day.

In reality however, families hurt each other. The people biologically programmed to protect and love them, usually became the people that hurt them the most. Sara had personal experience with this subject. That case with the dead father was only one example of how family members can destroy everything. The man was murdered by his wife. She caught him taking the money out of their childrens college funds and using it to gamble. During interrogation she confessed to killing him, saying it was an accident, that it was never supposed to happen that way. Now her 9 year old little boy and 4 year old little girl had to stay with their aunt- forever followed by this tragedy. And these fantasy's of Sara's went from perfectly put together to crippled and dark, ripped apart by their own human failures.

Sara had been trying to quite this obsession for years now. She would become too attached to the victims and it made it so much harder to be unbiased, and as she learned of their true nature she became vengeful. As she looked around the room at the pictures now half ripped and laying on the ground she began to notice something. None of these pictures seemed to go beyond the year 1985. There were no recent pictures anywhere. No graduation, no first job pictures, nothing beyond middle school. _It seems I'm not the only one living in a fantasy world_ thought Sara.

"Hey Sara, do you mind giving me a hand?" asked Dave. He was leaning over the body with his hands beneath giving Sara a nod for the legs. She blinked a couple times, refocusing on the task, and leaned down to help flip Louisa over gently. Immediately you could see something was wrong. Dave gasped in surprise.

"What is that?" asked Sara leaning closer to get a better look. Inside Louisa's mouth, was green with white pustules. Her tongue was almost completely shriveled up. Dave squinted his face both repulsed and trying to get a better look.

"It looks like a chemical burn or some kind of fungus, definitely not something natural." Dave easily put his finger in her mouths and pointed his flashlight down her throat. "Looks like it took a good portion of her esophagus too."

"I don't think this was just a robbery anymore. Can you tell whether or not she was shot before or after this?"

"Well from the way the skin is creased, I would say she was shot after so most likely this chemical burn came anti-mortem and the gunshot is probably the COD but I will have to confirm in autopsy." Two MT's came over with a stretcher and helped lift Louisa Day onto it. Sara began searching the room for clues. She checked the living room, dusted for prints, took a handful or so of pictures, pulled fibers and hairs, then restarted the process in the bedrooms and the bathrooms. When she was done she looked around for Detective Vartann and found him talking to some officers on the front lawn.

"Hey Vartann," Said Sara as she approached the diligent men. Vartann turned around to face her.

"What can I do for you Sara?" He asked.

"Has the family been notified yet?"

"Well, the husband died about 15 years ago in a mining accident and the daughter ran away in the 80's. As far as we know she didn't have any siblings either." Just then a young woman approached the crime scene tape with a handful of groceries. She was a little short with dark brown hair and wore a tight button-busting top and a short black skirt with heels.

"Hey what happened To Lou?" She shouted, dropping her bags and running to the front porch. The officers immediately stopped her from entering and Vartann came to get information.

"I'm afraid that Ms. Day has past away. Were you close to her?" He asked cautiously.

"She's dead? Ah shit man, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit." Her eyes began to water as she was asked to sit down. Vartann handed her a tissue and she dabbed her eyes, to prevent a puddle of black sludge to cake her face.

"Well do you know who did it?" She finally asked.

"How do you know she was murdered?" Asked Vartann suspiciously.

"Lou was too tough to die of natural causes."

"How did you know her?"

"A couple months back she watched my kid. I'm her neighbor and it was an emergency. Ever since then she's been watchin' my kid for free on saturday's and I would get her groceries for her. She was old you know, hated driving."

"You said you lived next door. Have you noticed anything suspiciously lately? Any unknown cars parked around or people you've never seen before?"

"Nah, nothin' like that, but there was something weird about Lou yesterday. I called to get her list of food and stuff she needed and she was all cryin' you know, so I asked her what was wrong and she said she couldn't say she just gave me her list and asked me to save a note in case her daughter showed up. Though if you asked me, she was fishin' with no bait. Daughter hasn't been seen or heard from in years. Not even a note sayin' 'Fine,' to let her know she was okay. Now I know I ain't exactly makin' my mama proud but that's hittin' below the belt cause Lou was always worried her daughter was in danger of some kind. Blamed herself for her running away, but in my opinion she was just ungrateful."

"Can we see the note she wanted to leave?" asked Sara.

"Yeah It's in my house next door. Doesn't make a lick of sense to me." She got up and straightened herself out.

"One of my officers will come with you and get your name and number in case we need to contact you again. Thank you for your time and I'm sorry for your loss." said Vartann.

"Louisa was like my own mother. Just catch the son of a bitch, she deserved better." and she walked away with an officer in tow.

"Sara, did you find anything concrete? Any chance the robber dropped his drivers license?"

"No."

"Damn."

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><p><strong>AN:** Thank you for reading, I realize this chapter was devoid of one Mr. Sanders, but he shall appear promptly in the next chapter. By the way, that nastiness in Louisa's mouth- completely made up because I'm too lazy/time deficient to look for real ailments. Reviews would be most helpful because my writing skills are running on Calculus. I hope you are having a beautiful day :)


	3. What If?

A/N: So originally i intended to include some Greg in this chapter but i decided to split it into two chapters so it's a little more consistent. I have the next chapter typed already just making one final decision and it will be up in a couple days or tomorrow, depending on how fast i can make up my mind.

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE REVIEWS/FOLLOWS/FAVORITES. You guys are ridiculous! but in a good way. :P

As always, if anything confuses you or just sounds silly, feel free to message me or call me out on it in a review.

Stay beautiful,

Pinazee

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><p>"Look mr. officer sir, I was try*hiccup*tryin' to get the money that was due to me," slurred Marleys Ex-wife Tanya Baker. She was a slender woman but it was drug induced, making her gaunt and bony. She had dark red hair with splits of gray dripping throughout. She would have been a lovely woman but years of cigarettes and alcohol made her look as if she was rotting on the inside out.<p>

Jim had dealt with her kind before; They were traveling down a road of loneliness and lost themselves along the way. Now, Jim has talked to many family members who have lost a loved one but the people he felt sorry for the most was sitting in a chair clenching a cup of decaf coffee across the room. They lived in a hollow shell waiting for death to sweetly take them away. Without purpose, they would seek other means of filling the silence- through drugs or the bottom of a bottle- and yet nothing would fill their souls with happiness. They survived but didn't live. Ellie, his daughter, seemed to be going down that path and it scared him to death. Like any father, Jim wanted nothing more than his daughter to be happy and he wasn't so sure she was. But he had no way of knowing, she never contacted him. Even after his accident, Ellie was distant.

Tanya Baker was currently fighting an upcoming migraine and the man across from her was not helping at all. When she first got here, the immediately took her to this room and left her there with some coffee to sober her up a bit. Jim had walked in about an hour later.

"Alright Ms. Baker, are you ready to tell us why you were there?" Tanya dropped her shoulders and leaned her head against the table. Jim could hear her mumbling something incoherent.

"Could you say it to me please?" Tanya lifted her head up and dropped it sloppily into her free hand.

"I just told you. I just wanted the money that bastard owned me. Did you hear me that time or do I need to write it down for you?" Years he has listened to snide remarks and been assaulted, these little comments to him were like bug bites-annoying as hell but only irritating if scratched.

"No need. I'm just saying it's pretty convenient that you happened to be at the house the day his family got murdered." His steal eyes pierced her like a knife and she straightened up in her seat a bit.

"Look, I don't know anything about that. I was just getting off my shift and decided to hit the bar. I've been lookin' for this man for 12 years now. That bastard never once paid his rent the whole time we were livin' together. He just kept usin' and spendin' and usin' and spendin'. And now I find out he's livin' the good life with some housewife and his _precious_ son. He owed me and that night I finally found where he was holed up, so I took a cab and when I got there you guys were already rummaging through his frickin' mansion. Bastard. Look can I go now, I've gotta get somewhat coherent before my shift starts in-" Tanya looked at her wrists then dug through her purse. "Did you take my watch?"

"You must have dropped it somewhere. Look, I have just a couple more questions and then you can skip your merry way. Why did it take you so long to find him? There are phone books, social media sites, all kinds of ways to find someone nowadays. Nothings private."

"Marbar got in some sort a trouble in the early days. He's been stayin' under the radar ever since."

"What did he do?"

"I don't know he was with that tramp when it happened. She disappeared with him."

"How long ago was this?"

"10, 15 years I guess."

"Well which was it, 10 or 15?"

"It was a long time ago and I barely remembered to put on my shoes these days."

"Do you know who gave you his address?" Tanya smiled.

"Didn't talk much, his mouth was busy with other things." Tanya got a haze in her eyes like she was watching a movie off in the distance. "I was sittin' all by my lonesome and this buff guy sits down next to me and leans in real close and says to me 'I've been looking for you all day.' and I was real confused so I told him, 'we've never met, back off I've had a long day' and he says to me, 'of course we've met, you were in my dreams last night rockin' my world.' Now i'm like real pissed and stuff so I give him the finger and scoot down. He follows me and normally I'd have given him so many curses he'd have been deflating like a popped balloon but he just gave me this look like he was lonely too. So I pat the seat next to me and he sits down all happy and he asks me, 'so what are you drinking away tonight?' and I tell him about Marley and my job and he tells me about this guy that stole something of his ages ago too and he finally had to confront him. I asked him if the guy was smart enough to give him his thing back but he said he had sold it already and well things ended up moving to the mens bathroom from there."

"Is there a point to this?" asked Brass counting the seconds go by. Tanya looked offended.

"Yeah, when the guy in the bar dropped his pants a paper slipped out of his pocket. After our little fun, I noticed it and saw it was my Marbars name and address so I went to find him. Pretty lucky I ran into that guy actually or I'd have never found him."

"Ma'am, your ex-husband was found murdered the day you showed up to his house and a CSI was attacked at the scene, I wouldn't really call that lucky. Do you have any way of contacting bathroom man?"

"Nah, it was kind of a one time only deal. It was at Gino's Bar, the bartender Rich could probably tell you more."

"Do you still have the card?"

"I think it's in my purse." Tanya began rummaging through her little pink satchel. Brass immediately reached over and grabbed her hand, stopping her from potentially tampering with evidence.

"I'm afraid your purse is now evidence. We're going to have to take it."

"Of course. I only paid for it with my money but sure it's all yours."

"You'll get it back when we're done. Back to your story, can you at least give us a description of the guy besides 'buff'?"

"Umm, tall I guess. I don't know man I was hammered. Like I said, Rich can probably tell you more." At that point, he realized he wasn't going to get anything else useful from her. He closed his notepad, thanked her for her time, and stood up ready to find sanctuary in his office.

Tanya turned to him suddenly and said, "Hey is it possible for me to see my Marbar one last time?" Brass was confused. This woman openly hated this man and yet she had a look on her face that was genuinely sad. _Why is it so hard for people to be honest with themselves _thought Brass.

"I'm afraid the morgue isn't open for public viewing." Brass walked out shaking his head in disapproval and headed towards his office running into Nick in the hallways.

"Hey Nick, I have a place for you to check out."

In the lab next door Morgan was processing the boot prints Greg had found leading into the alleyway. She tied her long blonde hair into a ponytail, swishing her bangs behind her ears and got to work. She put a see through sheet over the photo and sketched out the imprint, taking her time to fit the curves perfectly. It became a challenge in parts because the entire print wasn't there. She had to fill in a lot of blank spots with what she thought might belong. Her mind kept wondering as well. All the "what if" questions circled around in her head like a vulture taking it's time for it's dinner to die. What if Greg hadn't lived? What if he was taken instead? What if it was Nick? She didn't realize she had stopped drawing until Finn came inside.

Finn leaned her head into the doorway, knocked on the inside panel, and said, "Hey, have you finished the boots yet? I need the light table next."

Morgan looked down and realized she had only finished half of it. She said, "Oh, umm I should be done soon." Finn was never really good with emotions, whether it was figuring out others or her own, but something seemed off about Morgan. There wasn't really anything to notice, it was more like a silent buzzing noise surrounded her, as if she could see her mind fighting itself to come to a conclusion.

Finn walked in casually, clutching her files, and said, "Hey Morgan are you okay? You seem a little...distracted." Morgan looked up from her work.

She had no intention of sharing her thoughts. She wasn't really sure how she could explain it anyways if she couldn't figure them out herself. She looked to Finn, giving her the best smile she could and said, "Yeah I'm fine. Are you okay?" Finn just smiled back, knowing full well she was anything but fine. She tried to deduce what could be running through her mind right now. It didn't take long for her to connect Greg to the problem. It wasn't a secret around the lab, Morgan liked Greg, Greg liked Morgan, but they both seemed too afraid to go further. Usually the entire lab would conspire to get two people together, but because Morgan was Ecklie's daughter, they didn't want to interfere and get on the bad side of the boss. It was probably for the best anyways. Something like this needed to come naturally to them and in their own time. Whether or not Ecklie knew of them was completely undetectable. He didn't talk casually to coworkers except his daughter, and they had a well established strained relationship that she wouldn't have told him anything anyways.

"You know, it could have been a lot worse in that alley. Kind of makes you think how quickly life can slip away from you. It makes me want to go skydiving." Morgan looked at her with a strange smile.

"What does skydiving have to do with anything?" Finn leaned on the table and grinned dreamily.

"It's just something I've always wanted to do, but was too scared to. I just don't want to die before I had the chance." Finn became serious and stood up. "Back in Seattle I lost a close friend of mine on the job. Before she was killed though, we had a big fight. Over something as frivolous as a lost camera. The morning before she passed away however, I found the camera in my apartment. When I found out later what had happened to her, it was like someone had stuffed their hand down my throat and squeezed my heart until it burst. The worst part is that I never got the chance to apologize to her. She died believing I hated her." Finn breathed in deep for a second to prevent herself from tearing open old wounds. A hungry silence filled the room.

"Finn..." Morgan said quietly. she didn't know what to say. Every sentence she came up with sounded empty and useless.

Finn finally said,"This job takes away so much from us- our social life, our families, even chips away at our soul- don't let it take away your chance at happiness." Then she simply nodded at the man walking by. Morgan looked over to see Greg deep in thought with a file in hand. She smiled to herself and looked back at Finn, who winked at her and walked away. Morgan had to process what she just said to her but when she looked down she realized she still had work to do. She began sketching the rest of the boot to distract her from the new "what if's" floating around in her head. What if she asked him out? What if he turned her down?

What if he didn't?

She looked up to find Greg in the next lab talking to Hodges and she pictured herself walking straight up to him, confidence displayed like a billboard, and giving him a passionate kiss and him returning it right back.

She frowned as she watched him walk back out with a furrow in his brow, shattering the daydream, and she went back to copying boot prints.

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><p>Thank's for reading :)<p> 


	4. What keep's you up at night Greg?

A/N: Hurray! Next chapter :)

Thanks for the review! You know who you are ;)

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><p>Greg had been wondering around the lab after he changed his clothes and dropped them off with Finn. Many people had told him to go home, and as tired as he was, he just couldn't bring himself to drive back to an empty apartment. It wasn't that he was scared of being attacked again, but it was more of a foreboding feeling. Comfort right now, was walking the halls of the busy lab, distracting himself with "work" that Russell had given him which mainly meant he was a delivery boy for the different labs. As much as he wanted to do real work, he knew that anything he processed would probably be half-assed and sloppy, and Greg was nothing less than precise with his work, so at the moment he was content with just walking from lab to lab, observing others do their jobs. Right now he was sitting at a break table sipping a large cup of coffee and staring at the refrigerator magnets. His thought's were racing but every movement he made felt like he was lifting 200 lbs. Every time he blinked, he wasn't sure if he could lift his eyelids back up. Greg's mind kept rolling over what his attacker had said too. <em>Until next time.<em> In that moment, Greg's eyes went wide.

He leaned his forehead on the table and muttered, "Shit."At that moment Nick walked in noticing a half asleep Greg on the table.

"What's shit?" Greg leaned up quickly, not wanting Nick to see him so worried.

"Hmm? Oh it's nothing. Did you need something?" Greg tried to look "normal" as he sipped his coffee but almost coughed as it burned down the wrong pipe. Nick looked skeptical at his friend.

"I think you need to go home Greg. You've been up for more than 40 hours. You need sleep." Greg was about to protest when Nick held up his hand to stop him. "Get your stuff I'm taking you home." Greg surrendered. He took one last big gulp of coffee than headed to his locker. A little while afterwords he was sitting in the passenger seat of Nick's Tahoe, leaning his arm against the window and his head against his arm. Nick had been stopped at a red light and took the moment to assess his recently damaged friend. Throughout the years, Nick had grown to love the quirky guy beside him. What started out as respect towards a colleague, became a deep bond of brothers. Greg had become not only a trusted coworker, but a confidant.

After he had been kidnapped and buried alive, Nick had been a complete mess. He kept seeing the walls crumbling around him and felt ants crawling in his skin. One day, Nick had scratched his skin so bad he left a bloodied mess running from his wrist to his elbow. He had to see a doctor a week later when it got infected. Somehow his friends had found out and later that night, when he was sitting alone at his dining room table avoiding the dinner he made, he heard a knock at his door. He opened it and found Greg and Warrick holding a case of beer and a couple of movies. Nick gestured for them to come in and they made themselves comfortable on his couch after setting up the DVD. Throughout the night he kept expecting either Greg or Warrick to ask him how he was doing. He purposely sat away from them so they never had the chance but they never tried and eventually he relaxed and drank his beer. After the first movie Greg went to pick up pizza leaving Nick and Warrick alone in the apartment. An awkward silence filled the room as each stared at their beers or their watch.

Nick said, "Hey, I just wanted to thank you for coming over. After all the required therapy sessions, I really appreciate you guys not prying into my emotions. You have no idea how bad I needed this."

Warrick turned to him with a puzzled look, "You're right I didn't. Apparently Greg did though." Nick was confused.

"What do you mean?"

"Well this afternoon I got a call from him saying that you wanted us over to hang out. I didn't realize he had set this all up. He also told me he'd reimburse me for the beer but I haven't seen a penny yet." Nick had a small smile on his face. Warrick became serious."He's been a CSI for what, 2 years? And he's already catching thing's I've missed. Like when a friend need's to just drink a cold beer and forget about his problems. You know I'm always here for you right?" Nick nodded reassuringly. "And apparently when I'm not, Greg will be there to have your back. He's a good kid, we've taught him well." Warrick gave him a winning smile. "Now we just need to teach him to pay his debts."

Nick returned to the present and began driving once more. It was a bittersweet memory. Warrick had been right, once he passed away, Greg had been there for him with a cold beer and a bad movie. It took them awhile to talk about Warrick, but eventually they started reliving good memories together and moving on, despite the guilt he felt for leaving his best friend in the past. Nick knew that this job put you in harms way every day, and while it was hard to think that anyone of them could be gone the next day, he couldn't imagine fighting the battle with anybody else. This family that they had built with trust, fights, and sweat was the strongest he had ever been a part of and he thanked God everyday for them.

Now that one of them had once again been in a close call, Nick began opening old wounds. It wasn't that he was remembering a specific memory, but a feeling that went with the situation. When Sara was taken, he was scared out of his mind. When Greg was attacked, he was madder than hell. When Warrick died he was lost and destroyed. Now they all circled together and he couldn't make head's or tail's of what he wanted to do- hunt the man down or stay behind and help Greg heal. He was at a loss and before he knew it he was pulling up to Greg's apartment.

Nick stopped the car and realized Greg had fallen fast asleep with a frown on his face. He didn't want to disturb him- just get him a blanket and pillow and let him sleep right there. Eventually he got his voice.

Nick whispered gently, "Greg, hey Greg. We're at your place man." There was no response. Nick said it louder this time. "Hey Greg. Come on man, let's get you into your nice comfortable bed." Still no response. He leaned over and gently touched his arm when all of a sudden Greg snapped his eyes open and jerked his body out of Nicks reach. He had a terrified look on his face and took in a quick shallow breaths. Nick just eased his arm back into his lap, worried about his friend.

"Sorry Greg, I was just trying to get you up. We're at your place." Greg slowly looked around realizing he wasn't in his nightmare and descended back into his seat, completely embarrassed by his over reaction.

"Sorry Nick, didn't mean to snap at you." Greg unlatched his seat belt and got out of the truck. Before he closed the door he leaned his head in slightly and said, "I'll see you at work tonight then. Thank's for the lift." Greg reluctantly closed the door and looked up to his apartment. That foreboding feeling still lingered with him and it took what was left of his courage to finally walk ahead. Nick sensed his hesitance with every step.

Before Greg could get too far away, Nick got out of the truck and said, "Hey, if you want, you can stay at my place." Greg very much wanted to say yes, but his ego said no. After being victimized recently he didn't want anyone to think he was afraid of the dark.

"Thank's Nick, but I can handle it." Greg finally went inside. Nick stayed behind and waited until he saw Greg turn his lights on.

A couple minutes later Greg arrived on the third floor. He slowly walked to his apartment and unlocked his door. He took a deep breath before pushing it open expecting the worse- two men to be sitting there waiting for him, a murder scene, ravaging dogs, anything really. But his apartment was just as he had left it- empty. But the foreboding feeling didn't go away. He eased into his apartment, turning on every light along the way. Off to his right was his kitchen which opened up into the living room.

Everything in his apartment still had the newly renovated look. Everything was brand new, modern, and clean. His kitchen had brand new floors and a fresh paint job that splashed the wall with a bright green. His living room had been painted the same color but was balanced with the many pieces of art and antiques passed down to him from his grandparents.

Right after Greg had been attacked by the wannabe gangsters in 2007, and was released from the hospital, he came home to find his entire apartment redone and his friends waiting for him inside with grins on their faces. He was completely taken off guard.

Catherine walked up to him, gave him a big hug, and said, "I hope you don't mind we attacked your place."

Sara chimed in, "When I came to get your stuff for the hospital, I didn't realize I would be walking into a time capsule. Your furniture belonged in the 70's and your kitchen belonged in the stone age. None of the appliances were working properly. So everyone chipped in, and switched up a couple things. We still have all the stuff if you want it back." Greg was speechless. He ran his left hand over the smooth granite counter top as he looked around at all the new things in his place. The others all looked at him anxiously, not sure whether he would accept the gift or hate the drastic change.

Greg finally said, "It's missing something." Greg went to his bedroom, still taking in all the new pieces and the different colors. He went to his closet, which thankfully was still the mess he had left it, and grabbed his camera. When he came back the others were huddled together whispering to each other, when he stepped in the room they went silent. He held out his camera with a grin, "I need a recent picture." The others smiled back to him and got into a group. Greg went to take the picture before Nick said, "Uh uh, your getting in here too. Put the timer on it." Greg lowered the camera hesitantly. He looked at his reflection in the mirror. Bruises covered his face like a mask. He still had a bandage wrapped around his skull and his arm was in a sling. He didn't want another reminder of how damaged he was. Nick walked up to him and placed a comforting arm gently around his shoulders.

"The damage on the outside is only temporary but you'll always be the same to us. When we look at this picture we won't see a destroyed boy, we'll see a brave man who we were honored to take a picture with." Nick gave a him a big smile, giving him a light shake until he smiled back sheepishly.

Greg placed the camera on a shelf and started the timer, "You guys just couldn't wait two more weeks, could you?"

Warrick held out his arm and said, "Nope, now get over here." Greg stood between Nick and Warrick with the two girls on the outside, each had a big grin on their face.

The light memory, was just a reminder of the dark circumstances he found himself in now. Each room he checked though came up empty and he finally conceded and flopped down on his bed. He looked at his alarm clock. The time read 6:23 A.M. Greg had to go back to work in 12 hours. Before he could even kick off his shoes, Greg was already in a dreamless sleep.

About 5 hours later Greg awoke to a crashing noise in his living room. His eyes burst open and he immediately reached for his hand gun beside his bed. He quietly got out of bed and hid beside his bedroom door. He leaned his head around, heart pounding matching his shaking leg. He blinked a couple times to see clearly, barely registering the small migraine setting in. He walked down his hallway gun first and slowly approached his living room. He looked around carefully for the source of the noise. He paused and listened. In the kitchen he heard a faint clicking noise and heavy breathing. He dug deep down , mustering up enough crazy to see what it was before rounding the kitchen island. He pointed his gun towards the floor only to find that he was aiming at a cat licking milk from around a broken glass. Greg relaxed his body, finding the breath he had held in.

"John Stamos, what are you doing in here?" John Stamos, the cat, belonged to the neighbor. Sometimes she would climb the railing and pop into his apartment. Greg picked up the cat, scratching his neck for comfort, and took him to his balcony. "You nearly gave me a heart attack." He closed his balcony door and leaned on the wall beside it, relishing in the relief. He started cleaning up the mess in the kitchen when he realized-he didn't leave a glass of milk on the counter. Nor did he leave his balcony door open. His heart began pounding again, surely aggravated by the constant cycle of panic. He didn't finish cleaning before he decided to leave. He went to his room and grabbed his phone and keys. On his way out a man was waiting for him in the kitchen.

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><p>AN: I can get really cheesy sometimes :P

Thank's for reading!


	5. Blood Bond

A/N: GREG ANGST WHOOO!

Well this chapter was weird for me. This was not what I had in mind the entire time I was writing the first 4 chapters but it just sort of ran away from me. I hope I made the write choice (overused pun intended)

THANKS FOR THE REVIEWS!

_and now more formally_

I would like to applaud your gallant efforts in partaking in the ritualistic return of individual thoughts upon a written piece. It enthuses me greatly!

Enjoy :)

I ravish in the idea that you will find this piece both entertaining and pleasurable.

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><p>Greg stopped in his tracks. A tall man with shoulder length brown and gray hair was leaning against the counter staring right back at him. He was wearing a simple black shirt with a thin durable green coat and jeans. Everything about him was intimidating, from the scar along his lower lip to the way he ever so subtly moved his leg's in an attacking position. Greg quickly raised his gun with sturdy hands and a shaky body.<p>

"What are you doing here?" Greg said through gritted teeth trying to intimidate his unwanted guest.

The intruder merely stood up and said, "You might want to put the gun down Greg, you could get hurt." Greg stood his ground. Even though his head was pounding, his heart was running like a wild horse, his leg's were uncontrollable, and his adrenaline was breaking records, he stood his ground. The older man across from him looked relaxed like he was discussing what they wanted for lunch.

"I asked you a question," Greg demanded. The man had no reaction to the underlining threat. He nodded to something to his right and before Greg could see what it was he heard the click of a safety being pulled off a gun pointed right at his head.

The man walked towards him and said, "Give your gun to my colleague and sit down. We should be a little civilized." Greg's mind raced to find a way out. He didn't want to hand over his only protection but he feared that if he didn't comply his new guests would get much more violent and Greg didn't stand a chance. He flipped his gun around his finger and gave it to the person beside him then hesitantly sat down. The man sat across from him, leaning back in a casual manner and crossing his arms.

In that moment, Greg hated him. He hated how nonchalantly he made himself home in his house. He hated how he controlled him, hated how he tapped his thumbs together, hated how his accomplice was still aiming a gun at his head. An anger boiled inside his stomach and it desperately wanted to flip the table over and punch the guys lights out.

After a long silence the man finally concluded his thoughts and said, "I need to ask you a favor." Greg almost laughed.

"Why the hell would I do that?" The man leaned his elbows on his knees-a simple gesture with a deeper meaning that didn't go unnoticed by Greg; It said I'm in control.

"We're trying really hard not to push you but if you don't hear us out we'll be forced to use all means until the message sinks in, got it?" his tone bit at him on the last two words. He tried to hide his anxiety by leaning back and resting his arm on the table. His other ticked away on his leg, giving away his fear.

"What favor?" He finally asked his captor.

"Yesterday my brother met you in the alley." Greg's eye's got wide and every part of him stilled. "Ever since then, he's been wanting to get to know you- quite frankly he's been stalking you. He seems to think that you were meant to be his." Greg stopped breathing, his mind flew through all the possibilities. _Would they take him to him? Are they asking him to do it willingly? How long would he be a prisoner of these brothers?_

"My brother is very special to me. He's the only blood I got. Now you're threatening to take that away from me and I don't like it."

Greg immediately protested. "I never asked for any of this! Why don't you do what every good brother does for a man like him and hire a hooker?" In a motion so quick he didn't realize what was happening, the man that was once holding a gun was now clutching his groin with a vice grip. Greg's eyes popped out of his head and he exhaled all the breath he had inside him. His hand became a fist and pounded on the table to get through the pain. The man across him only sighed.

"I told you to hear me out. My colleague here is very protective and very skilled in aiming for parts that won't be noticeable." For the first time Greg looked to the man now grasping his unmentionables. He was bald and dark skinned with a fury inside his dark eyes. His well built arms shown through his skin tight black t-shirt.

Greg couldn't focus anymore. Blood was rushing in his ears, his eyes snapped shut before he realized it, and his knuckles burned white from the raging fist he made. Then all if a sudden it was gone leaving only a lingering feeling of things shifting back into place and nerves adjusting to the sudden release. His breathing finally came back to him and his eyes opened.

"We don't want you with him anymore than you do. We would prefer if his mind was on something else right now. Something more important than a little crush on some science geek."

Through ragged breaths, Greg said, "What's the favor then?"

"It's simple really. We want you to leave the state. Actually leaving the country would be better, he's a great tracker." Greg didn't believe what he was hearing. Was he really being chased out of the U.S?

Greg was also confused, he said, "Not that I'm suggesting this, but why are you not just killing me and dumping my body in the middle of the desert?"

"Simple. He would know I did it and resent me for the rest of his miserable life. No, I need you to leave by choice, well sort of, so that he can start focusing on the tasks I gave him. It should take about 5-9 weeks and then we'll be gone for good. But if you want to come back before then, by all means, chance my brothers lust. Trust me, I've seen some of the people he's been with and they haven't walked since." The man smiled as if he thought Greg might think it a joke. Greg's face was hard, understanding the full extent of what his life would be if he moved away.

"How soon do I have to leave?" He asked bitterly. The man shifted back into a casual leaning position.

"As soon as possible. Preferably this week." Greg turned his head to think without the man's presence so visible. Unless they caught these guys soon, and by the lack of evidence they had found so far, Greg knew his best chance at survival would be to leave. He also knew it would be the worst decision in his life. His job, his friends, his whole life was in this desert oasis and to tear himself away from it would be like slicing a major organ out of him.

"If I leave that soon, people will get suspicious and look into it," he said simply, trying the only angle he had to convince this man to try some other mean's of refocusing his brothers needs.

"Tell them you've had enough of Vegas. That this recent attack was the last straw. I don't know, anything really. You just need to leave. This is partly for your own protection too. You're lucky I'm even giving you the opportunity and not just shipping you out myself in a wooden box labeled East Africa." Greg was still debating. The man's patience was running thin though, so he reached into his pocket and pulled out some folded papers, throwing them on the table in front of Greg. "If I can't convince you maybe these will. I found them in his room." Greg hesitantly grabbed the photos and unfolded them. He felt like vomiting. The first picture was of him sitting on the ambulance talking to Sara. The second he was walking out of the lab. The last one was much more recent, he was asleep on his bed.

"He popped in earlier and I tailed him here. That's why you need to leave. This obsession he has with you is taking up our valuable time and next time he won't stop himself with just pictures. I don't know why he's taking his time with you. You must be different to him. Special. Usually when he get's worked up about someone and then when he has them and they let him down...he doesn't know how to cope with their loss. Can you imagine what he might do to someone he finds so special?" Greg snapped his eyes back up to the man across from him. He knew his brother was murdering people, torturing them, and just sits there like he's talking about a business deal.

"You're brother needs a prison cell and the death penalty," Greg spat out. Immediately the man beside him pulled his head back forcefully and slapped a hand over his mouth and nose-cutting of his breathing. Greg panicked. His lungs burst into flames, his arms and legs were becoming numb. He grasped at anything on the man to yank him off, he kicked at the air, nearly kicking the man across from him in the shins. He barely registered that the man had pulled him out of his chair. Then right before he could pass out the man dropped him to floor in a heap. Greg took in one long ragged breath, coughing at the sudden return of oxygen. His throat burned like wildfire.

The brother leaned down beside him and said between gritted teeth, "Don't ever talk about my brother that way." He picked Greg up by his collar and angrily threw him back in his chair. Greg was still breathing rapidly. He didn't need the extra threat, he was very aware of the danger he currently found himself in. He didn't want to make a decision either. After a period of silence the man got impatient. "Look I'll give you 5 seconds to make a decision, or I'll go with plan B." Then the barrel of the gun tapped the left side of his head. Greg couldn't process. He wanted to say he'd go but his lips were listening to his heart and his heart didn't want to leave the life he had created for himself. If he said no though, he wouldn't have a heart to argue with. "5, 4, 3,2,-"

"Wait!" Greg croaked. The man stopped counting and gave him a knowing glare. He cleared his throat and said louder, "What if I helped you finish the task, could I stay then?" For once, the man seemed surprised.

"You want to help us? Oh Greggo, you have no idea what you've stumbled into."

"They way I figure it, I'm an accomplice anyways. You have told me about an illegal operation and if I just run away, I'll be a co-conspirator. I might as well know what I'm being chased away from."In a last ditch effort to save his life, Greg threw a crazy idea out there. Immediately he regretted it. He didn't want to be a part anything that had to do with them. He already knew one of them was a serial killer and the other wasn't any better. But the man across seemed to be seriously contemplating the idea of using him, and that scared Greg. _That's what you came up with?_ He thought sarcastically.

Eventually the man seemed to have an answer. "Alright you can help. You will have no contact with my brother whatsoever. You might want to find another place in the meantime. Jay here will contact you with further information. Now that you've been added to the equation it should speed up our time. I'll try to keep him off you're tail. But if we don't contact you in 4 days, I would suggest leaving the country...and fast." Jay turned to him with a malicious grin. Greg pressed his back to the chair. Then they both exited his apartment as if they had a pleasant conversation.

Greg quickly went to his freezer and grabbed a pack of ice, placing it on his groin. His throat burned and his nails throbbed from digging into the man's skin. Then he had a sudden idea. He went to his bathroom and used a cue tip under his nails. With the DNA from this sample, he might be able to gather more information on the men that just threatened him. Then reality sank in and his whole body became numb to the outside world. What did he just get himself into?

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><p>AN: Thank you for reading :) Feedback is welcomed/encouraged.


	6. Evidence Can Be a Nasty Thing

A/N: I watched an old CSI episode and I didn't realize how much I missed the show! How much longer do I have to wait!? Anyways, I only mention this because I realized I might be misrepresenting the character's and writing them how I want them to be. So they might be OOC which wasn't my intention.

By the way, I'm not sure if you guys noticed, but I lowered the rating to T. After reading some other stories I realized it was too high. I'm not planning on going too graphic (wouldn't know how to write it if I wanted to).

Thank you for the lurkers! Thank you for visiting, I hope you have a pleasant trip :)

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><p>Later that day Nick arrived at Greg's apartment with coffee in hand. He knocked a couple times but didn't get an answer. As CSI's, they knew the value of privacy-their job required them to strip their victims bare in order to uncover the truth. As much as Nick wanted to give Greg his privacy, he was also worried about him. Plus they had to be at work in 10 minutes so he gently opened the door.<p>

"Hey Greg, you awake?" Nick slowly crept in, reflexively scanning the scene for evidence. He noticed a glass broken on his kitchen floor, along with one of his dining room chairs knocked over. A photo that was hanging on the wall in the dining room was now knocked to the floor with the frame shattered. Nick became worried. _What happened here?_

Nick didn't see Greg in the main rooms so he went to his bedroom.

"Greg? Come on man get up." Nick said loudly as he slowly opened the door all the way- revealing an empty bedroom. Greg wasn't anywhere to be found. Nick was no longer worried, he was panicking. After the attack last night, this couldn't be a coincidence. Then he realized, they took his vest. They knew his last name and what his job was. It would be easy to tail him. He quickly dialed his cell and paced the living room, looking for a note or some kind of clue as to where he went. But on the 3rd ring he heard a throat clearing on the other end.

Greg's groggy voice echoed into his ear, "Hey Nick, what's going on?" Nick was immediately relieved. He felt silly for jumping to conclusions.

"Nothing Greg, I just came to pick you up and you weren't here. Hey are you aware that your house is a mess? It looks like it was broken into." Nick began looking around for anything that was missing. Greg became alert instantly.

"Nick, don't worry about it. I uh made the mess myself. Just come to work and I'll explain later." Nick picked up the broken frame and noticed that it was empty.

"Yeah okay I'll be there in a few. Did you hang an empty picture by chance?"

"What? No. Why do you ask?"

"Well there's a broken frame on the ground but it doesn't have a picture in it. It look's like it was hanging on the wall. What happened Greg?"

"Nothing happened Nick. I'll explain everything when you get here."

"Alright, did you want me to clean it up a bit? The milk on the floor will be a bitch to clean up later."

"Don't worry about it Nick. Look, I'm in the middle of processing I'll see you later." Then before Nick could say good-bye Greg hung up. The abruptness caught him off guard, but there was too much going on here for him to dwell on it.

Nick wanted to leave, he really did, but something didn't seem right. Greg wouldn't leave his place a mess if he did it himself. It's not like he was late for work or anything. Plus CSI's are very protective of their homes, he wouldn't leave the door unlocked. He looked out on the balcony and noticed a potted cactus was lying on it's side. There was also a rather large hand print on the outside of the glass that couldn't belong to Greg's long skinny fingers.

Greg's apartment was on the 2nd floor and the balcony's were only about 3 feet away from each other. Nick also saw a two story building roof top at the end of Greg's building. If someone was very careful about being seen, it would be easy to jump from the building's roof top to the balcony's and landed in Greg's. But why go to all the trouble to rob someone when there were plenty of other targets before hand? _Greg may have said he did it himself, but that doesn't mean he couldn't be in trouble. _

Unsatisfied, Nick went to his bedroom and did a quick scan there too. His bed was a mess, but for the most part it was remarkably clean. Not even a little dusty. With the amount of hours they pull, Nick was amazed that Greg was able to keep up his apartment. Now that he thought about it, the entire place was clean with the exception of the few scattered item's in the main rooms. Then he noticed the closet door was open a bit. Curiosity was overwhelming. He put his hand on the knob, took a second to accept the fact that he was violating Greg's privacy, then opened the door- it was just an ordinary closet.

Nick turned to leave, feeling ridiculous when he noticed something reflecting light behind his clothes. He reached behind some old punk t-shirts, not really sure what he was expecting, when he found a small video camera pointed right at the crack of the door. Nick looked it over and found it was still taping._ Why would he have a video recording the closet door?_ To test a theory, Nick placed the camera back on the stand and estimated the projection angle. If he put the door back the way it was, it gave the perfect view of Greg's bed. _An even better question: why is it pointed at his bed, hidden in the closet?_ Unsatisfied with all the questions swarming his mind, Nick put everything back the way it was and left the apartment. Something was going on with Greg and he was going to find out.

Back at the lab Greg's was in the middle of testing the DNA from the swab he took from his nails. Right now he was just waiting for his results. His lungs were still on fire and it hurt for him to sit down, but nobody seemed to notice. After receiving the phone call from Nick, and having to cut it short when Finn walked in, he didn't know how he was going to explain the mess to him. He couldn't tell him the truth, he didn't want Nick to get involved somehow, and knowing how overprotective he was, he wouldn't just let him handle it. Nick was also a damn good CSI, so his excuse had to be good and plausible-he figured he had about 10 minutes before he had to lie through his teeth.

The photo disappearing was new. He didn't remember a frame falling, though he probably knocked it over in the struggle. The frame had to be in the dining room and he had 4 different frames on the wall. Two of them were over the chair the man was sitting on, and two were over his chair. He couldn't remember which frame had which picture though. He knew there was one of him and his old pet golden retriever Mr. Ed when he was 22, a picture of him and Nick celebrating a victory in court over some beers, a picture of his parents enjoying a summer's day, and the picture he had taken right after his friends remodeled his home. One of the creep's must have taken one of those, but he didn't see the point in taking a picture if they had some of their own.

The machine dinged and Greg abruptly ended his thoughts and dived into his results. The black mans name was Jason Markus. He was 41, had a long, long ,long criminal history that went back as far as 13 years old. It ranged from burglary to arson, to finally hitting a 10 year sentence over minor drug possession with intent to sell. What worried him the most was his history of violence to go with the crimes. While robbing a house, he had beat an old man until he was barely breathing, and because they didn't have any evidence to suggest he laid a hand on him, they only got him for burglary. He had also sent 5 women to the hospital over domestic abuse, but none of them pressed charges. Another time a house was burned down with 3 people inside who managed to escape. And the list went on and on. Not once did he ever see the man in charge with him though. If they had been friends for a long time, he had been smart to keep himself out of Jays criminal record. Everything on his record stopped though when he visited his parole officer for the last time 6 months ago. He's been staying under the radar ever since.

Right then, Sara popped her head, making Greg jump when she said,"Hey Greg, D.B wants to talk to you. He say's you weren't answering your phone." Greg looked down and found D.B had tried calling 4 times, and he didn't hear it ring once. He thanked Sara for passing along the message and headed to his office, making sure he cleared the computer and threw away the sample. Sara was watching from the next lab and noticed Greg throwing away evidence. Confused, she went to see what he had tossed out. She picked up the bag and ran the DNA again, the results popping up almost immediately. Sara scanned through the file and wondered why Greg would have this sample and just toss it out. Knowing he wouldn't jeopardize a case, it had to have been personal.

"Hey Sara, what are you doing?" Hodges walked into the lab with his hands behind his back like a 4 year old who had caught his sister stealing candy. Sara only briefly glanced at him, debating whether or not to include him on her suspicions of Greg.

"Do you know what time Greg got here?" Hodge's pursed his lips in disappointment.

"I don't know, I don't keep tabs on his whereabouts." Sara looked to him incredulously.

"Hodge's you keep tabs on everybody." Hodge's grinned embarrassed. _Was it that obvious? _

"He came in around 6:13. May I ask why you're asking?" Sara smiled to him.

"No." Hodges grinned back to her.

"Well can I at least know why you're running Jason Markus through Codis?" Hodges got a brief glance at the screen before Sara quickly clicked out of the file. "Arson, assault, burglary, drug possession. Sounds like a well rounded guy."

"He's a suspect in a ongoing investigation." Not a complete lie. "Don't you have work to do? Did you finish processing the green stuff in out victim's mouth yet?"

"Ah, well that's actually why I came here in the first place. The burn inside her mouth was caused by Witch's Brew." Sara had no idea what that was, but the grin on Hodge's face suggested he did.

"Care to explain what that is?"

"Gladly. Back in 1692, during the witch trials-" Sara sort of zoned out from there. Then she saw Greg coming back. Sara stood up and grabbed Hodge's arm escorting him out.

"-the put this concoction in the men's drink-"

"Wow that's fascinating. Why don't you tell me more in your lab." Hodges grin got even bigger. _Someone actually wanted to listen to one of my stories!_

Sara meanwhile put the sample in her jacket pocket, and rubbed the plastic wrapper as if it would speak to her. _What's going on with him?_

Back in D.B Russell's office, Russell was waiting patiently for Greg, doing menial paper work when he got a knock on the door. Greg leaned his head into his office.

"You wanted to see me?" he asked. Russell gestured to the seat across his desk and Greg nervously closed the door and sat down. Russell came around his desk and calmly leaned against the side.

"Nick called me." Greg became anxious; he wasn't ready. He hadn't thought of an excuse. "What happened this morning?" Quickly, Greg said the first thing that came to mind.

"I fell." _Stupid._ "I mean, I was standing on my chair last night and lost my balance." _Not much better but that will have to do._ Russell felt he wasn't telling the truth.

"Did you have someone over last night?" Greg shifted uneasily in his chair with an ever so subtly grimace.

"No. Why?" Russell was connecting the dots. _Something happened last night, why is he trying to hide it?_

"Nick said there was a hand print on the balcony window that didn't look like it belonged to you." Greg did his best to seem nonchalant.

"It was probably Nick's. He come's over a lot when he's not working. Sometimes when I'm not even there, which is a little weird but hey, it's what you do for friends. Is that all?" Russell stared at him in disbelief.

"He also found a video camera in your closet that was running, pointed directly at your bed." In a flash, Greg stilled and paled, but quickly brushed it off. _How do I explain this?_

"First of all that was private. And what I do in the bedroom is my business. Nothing happened this morning so tell Nick to stop searching my place for clues. Now is there anything work related that I need to be here for, cause I have some test's to run." Greg got out of his seat, not wanting to spend another second in interrogation. Russell didn't want him to leave until he got the truth but he didn't want to force him, and he couldn't with how upset he was. He nodded to the door, gesturing for him to leave. After he stormed out Russell went back to his desk, contemplating the evidence and what it could mean for his friend. He made a decision right then. He picked up his phone and dialed.

"Jim Brass."

"Hey Jim, I need you to do me a favor."

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><p>AN: I hope you enjoyed your stay, please come back again :)


	7. If You Are There For Me

A/N: It's short, but it's just a transition. The next chapter is longer, just polishing it up cause it's pretty darn important!

Thank you for the reviews (igbb3813 & CSI001) and favorite (Wdwchick), much appreciated!

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><p>When Nick arrived at work he immediately sought out Greg but he couldn't find him anywhere. He finally walked into Hodges lab, who was explaining something to Sara, who looked like she was trying to hear the relevant information.<p>

"Hey have you guys seen Greg?" Sara looked to him, grateful for the break.

Sara said, "He's talking to D.B right now. Why what's going on?" Nick debated telling her about his suspicions. It could just be him overreacting, and if he was in danger, maybe having as few people involved would be best. But then he realized, Sara's been there for them for the majority of 11 years, if anyone could be trusted, it's her.

"Actually, could I talk to you?" Sara nodded. She turned to Hodges, and said, "So can you sum all that up?" Hodges seemed disgruntled but told her.

"She was forced, and I'm saying forced because no one in their right mind would mix these, but she was forced to drink sulfuric acid, polyflaxine, and stem grass root." Sara thanked him (_He couldn't have just said that?_) and walked with Nick to the nearest empty room which happened to be the conference room. Nick closed the door quietly then faced Sara.

"I think Greg might be in trouble." They said at the same time, then both looked puzzled.

Nick said, "Something happened to Greg last night. He didn't wreck his place and somebody else was there."

Sara grabbed the DNA sample from her pocket and tossed it on the table to Nick. "Maybe it was Jason Markus." Nick grabbed the evidence, not liking the new question. Sara quickly explained who he was.

"So if it was Jason, then he must have been the one that attacked him in the alley, and he must have been the one to murder that family."

"But what's the motive behind killing the entire family in the first place? And why is he involving Greg somehow?" Sara and Nick thought it over, weaving their idea's into a plausible chain.

Sara finally said, "I found one of his buttons popped off. It could have come off when they were yanking his vest over his head or..." Sara let the idea hang in the air- that maybe someone had ripped his shirt off of him afterwords. Nick felt like throwing up. _It can't be. But everything adds up. _

"Greg, freaked out when I touched his arm. I thought it was because he was just having a nightmare... and the paramedic's told D.B that he yelled at them to get away when they touched his arm too. What if... what if something more happened in that alley? What if he was assaulted? What if he's being stalked now?" The last words weighed him down as a heaviness filled the air. There was an ache in his chest as it brought back memories he had buried a long time ago. Nick rubbed his head, trying to wake himself up out of this nightmare. "I don't understand though, if Greg knows he's being stalked, why isn't he doing something about it? Why hide it?"

Sara said, "A lot of male assault victims, don't come forward because they feel emasculated and weak." Nick thought it over.

"He could have told me." He felt like a failure. He thought he had made it very clear that he would always be there for him. But if Greg couldn't trust him enough to tell him, then he wasn't doing a very good job.

"We could be getting ahead of the evidence too Nick. We don't know exactly what happened in that alley or at Greg's apartment. If we're going to get the truth, we have to talk to him." Nick nodded in agreement. "Why don't we finish our cases- that'll give Greg enough time to come talk to us, and since yours is connected with his, you might be able to bring him closure."

"Okay, but how do we help him now if he won't let us?"

"We stay available. Give him space when he want's it, surround him when he doesn't. I think, for the time being, we should keep D.B out of it." Nick glanced up quickly.

"I umm, already told him about Greg's apartment. He's suspicious too." Sara thought it over.

"Then he need's to know everything. We need to talk to him." Sara and Nick both left the conference room and headed towards D.B's office. On the way, they saw Greg come barreling out of the door only briefly taking in the sudden appearance of Nick and Sara in the hall before briskly walking past them.

Greg wasn't sure where he was going, he just needed to get away. It wasn't until about 15 minutes later that he realized he was on the roof leaning against the edge. The cool night air eased his nerves and lowered his tension ever so slightly. Up here, he didn't have to deal with stalkers or serial killers. He could just focus on his breathing, feel the texture of the hard stone against his hands, and smell the baked Nevada sand. Now if he could only get his brain to stop thinking. Somewhere in the back of his mind, it registered that the door had creaked open.

"Greg?" Morgans voice hollowed against the brick railing.

Without turning around he said, "Do you need something Morgan?" She cautiously went to stand next to him.

"I just saw you storming away I thought you might want someone to talk to."

"I don't need your help." he snapped. He clenched his fists trying to control his unabiding anger. Morgan wasn't buying any of it.

"Really? Because it seems to me like your losing control. I only came up here to help but if you want to be a stubborn ass and take the hard road then by all means stay up here by yourself." Morgan turned him to face her. "Greg, whatever is going on inside that head of yours, you need to let it out, or it will fester and grow until it finally bursts and you have no way of going back from that." Greg gently grabbed her hands from his arm and lowered them to her side. He looked away ashamed but stayed silent.

Morgan hurt just thinking about what he could be going through. Almost everyone in the lab knows what's it like to be attacked and victimized. For a couple cases though, the cop or CSI would reach their breaking point and she was wondering if Greg had reached his. She wanted to prevent it, but if he didn't talk there was nothing she could do. She was angry too. Angry because he wouldn't let her.

"Fine. When you're ready to talk, you know where to find me." Morgan began walking away.

"Wait," Greg quietly said. That one word, was enough to make her heart jump. Had she gotten through to him?

Greg looked her in the eyes for the first time. He clasped his hands together suddenly nervous. She joined him to the railing again.

"I'm sorry I snapped at you, it's just residue anger. Russell and Nick are being overprotective. I can take care of myself but they won't listen." Morgan sensed there was something else bothering him but she didn't want to push it.

"That's just their way of trying to help you. It sucks sometimes but they mean well."

"The whole situation sucks." Morgan nodded in agreement. " I think the worst part is that I keep thinking, if I had just followed protocol none of this would have happened. But one stupid mistake and I get attacked."

"You didn't attack yourself so how can you blame yourself? There were cops everywhere, no one thought they would be stupid enough to come back and smart enough to get away with it. But it's over now and you and Nick will catch this guy before you know it." Morgan smiled. Greg wanted to tell her the whole story, every dirty bit of it because it wasn't over- not by a long shot. But he smiled back to her and nodded.

"I suppose we should get back before people start spreading rumors." They started walking back down. "Last time I took off up here, the whole lab thought I was getting ready to jump. Apparently my girlfriend had dumped me through text and I just couldn't stand being alone any longer." Greg dramatized. "I'm pretty sure that last part was started by Hodges."

"you guys have a really weird relationship. Sometimes it's like you hate each other."

"We don't hate each other, we just can't stand to be in the same room for too long."

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><p>AN: Thank you for reading :)


	8. In The Moment

A/N: I'm probably crazy for posting this cause right now the end to my story is on the other side of this cliff (pleasantly known as Writers Block) and I have to look through these really blurry binoculars to find it. A.K.A I have only glimpsed what's happening after this. I probably won't update for awhile so I hope this can keep you interested long enough to read again when I do.

Thank's for the reviews/favorites/followers/generalreaders. it's always comforting to know you exist :)

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><p>The next day, Nick was eating in the break room when D.B walked in.<p>

"Hey you have a robbery with Morgan, you need to leave in 10." Nick groaned.

"I'm almost off my shift can't someone from swing cover? I had to go dumpster diving today, twice. All I want to do is go home, pet my dog, and take a very long shower."

"It's an open and shut case, you just need to do some grunt work that's all. Won't take more than an hour."

"I'm coming, just give me a second to finish my sandwich and I'll meet her there."

"Alright, the address was sent to your phone." D.B turned to leave but remembered something. "Hey Nick." He looked around before sitting silently beside him and speaking quietly. "We both know something's wrong with Greg and he's not going to talk to me. I thought that since you've known him longer, that maybe you could get through to him. Get him to open up fully." Nick sighed and put his sandwich down.

"I know. But Greg will speak in his own time. Ever since he was attacked he hasn't been to keen on opening up. He got tired of people looking at him like he was helpless-his words not mine."

"But he only got attacked 3 days ago..."

"This is back in 09, you, Morgan, and Finn wouldn't have known about it."

"What happened?" Nick seemed hesitant to say anything.

"I'm not sure I should be the one to tell you this-"

"Nick, believe it or not I am your guy's boss, I have the right to know about his criminal history."

"I know D.B, the problem is, Greg's had enough people who've seen him victimized, a couple less wouldn't hurt.

You're right though, you have the right to know, but I can't tell you. Greg's a friend first and a coworker second- I can't betray his trust. If you need to know, it's all in the records, June 12th, 2009. I'm warning you now though, he won't just be that weird kid to you anymore. You'll see him differently." D.B's stomach twisted as his mind flip-flopped between being his boss and being his friend. He had to know though.

"I respect that Nick but in order for me to help him, I have to know everything. It's a risk I'll have to take." D.B stood up and left to search the records. Nick stared at his sandwich, unable to take another bite with Greg's bloody body from 2009 surrounding his thoughts. Suddenly Sara appeared with a grin on her face.

"Doesn't anybody answer their phones? Brass wants to see you, he's got a lead on the Steidbaker's case." Nick jumped out of his seat, threw away his half eaten sandwich and followed her out.

Out in the field, Morgan was processing the scene. A simple case with plenty of evidence. The man, who was caught later fleeing with a backpack full of cigarettes and money, had been caught on tape without a mask. It couldn't get any easier than that. At the moment she was working solo, but Nick was supposed to be joining her. He was 15 minutes late already though. It would take her hours to process this by herself. She had been there a half hour and so far she had only processed the cash register, watched the tape, and was now working on the front counter.

Then suddenly there was a _BANG_ as a shot was fired outside. Morgan instinctively dropped to the floor and hid beneath the counter. Her body shook and her breathing became labored. She was terrified. There was a police officer outside, maybe he was the one who fired- or maybe he was the one shot. She quickly took the gun out of her holster, almost dropping it when her hands became too shaky to get a firm grip. She slowly raised her head over the counter but quickly went back down when she heard the bell connected to the front door ring.

She put all of her focus on her breathing, trying to be as quiet as possible.

Then a loud man's voice slapped the air and said, "Excuse me, I would like to talk to the CSI or CSI's in charge of this scene. There seems to be a security breach." Then suddenly a gun was fired haphazardly into the ceiling. Morgan didn't know what to do. She decided to keep silent and stay out of sight. What she really wanted to do was cry and run away screaming. Her mind raced to find an answer but it was so caught up in listening to what the stranger was doing and trying to keep herself from throwing up. Then suddenly there were shots fired into the shelves behind the counter. Morgan flinched, realizing conflict was about to ensue. She heard the man's foot steps cross over to the left side of the counter where there was an open space to get behind. He was coming for her. She didn't have the option to hide anymore.

Mustering all the bravery she could, she breathed deeply before quickly standing up and aiming the gun at the intruder.

"Freeze!" She yelled. The man who had yelled was wearing a skin colored mask and a jacket just big enough to hide a pistol, which he was currently aiming right back at her.

"Oh there you are," he mocked. "I was beginning to think you had already left before I could deliver my message." The man slowly walked to her. She was panicking.

"I said freeze!" She yelled louder in an attempt to gather control of the situation. But the man only smirked behind his disturbing mask.

"Oh honey, you're shaking all over, maybe you should lay down." Then suddenly he fired his gun.

It took a second before she realized she was on the ground, until she felt the searing pain in her right arm. She was immobilized by the sudden hit, until she saw him getting closer. She frightfully scooted away from him, also looking around for the gun she had dropped. Before she knew it, her back was to the counter and her knees were pressed against her stomach as she held her now bloody arm. The man knelt down right in front of her.

"Oh you're a pretty thing. Too bad we can't take you back to our base. You'd make a lovely entertainment piece." Morgan became instantly angry and in that moment she was nervous. _How far was this going to go?_ She was beginning to feel light headed from the blood loss.

"Go screw yourself!" she snapped. The man only laughed, then suddenly his hand was grasped firmly around her chin. She tried to get out of his grip, but he was strong and unyielding. His breath smelled like cigarettes and gasoline.

"Now listen here blondie, and listen close. You need to deliver a message to your little buddies in the labs. I can either have you do it verbally, or I can carve it into your arm. Which would you prefer?" Morgan stopped struggling. "That's what I thought. Here's the message-Insurance. You got it?" Morgan was forced to nod. "Good." Then they could hear police sirens ringing outside. "Sound's like me cue. Remember that word. Or I'll be coming back to carve it into your dead body." Then in a flash, he was gone.

Morgan didn't hold back any longer. She let the tears fall freely. She held onto her flaming arm as police officers raced into the building. The next hour became a blur. Paramedics were rushed to the scene, police officers- including Brass- were running all over the block looking for the suspect, Morgan was moved onto a stretcher and was now laying in the back of an ambulance waiting for them to finish stitching her up.

The young man finished threading and said, "Well it's done, but I would still prefer if you went to the hospital and received the proper drugs right now. The longer you wait, the bigger the chance it will get infected." Morgan leaned up wincing from the pain.

"Thank's for the concern but I know the risk." She said tersely. He just shrugged, mumbling to himself about the stubbornness of cops as he put away the supplies. Morgan got out of the van and sat on the tailgate waiting. She saw Greg and Finn pull up across the parking lot and quickly run to her side.

"Are you okay? What happened?" asked Greg, concern etched into his tone. Morgan couldn't help but feel warmth in her face as his care made her blush.

"I'm fine. Listen, that man is targeting someone in the labs. Someone's in danger."

"Wouldn't be the first time. Has D.B been notified?" asked Finn. Morgan nodded, wincing slightly from the headache she acquired. "Are you sure you're okay? Maybe you should go to a hospital..." Morgan practically yelled that she was fine. Finn knew she wasn't telling the truth. As a whole, cops were notorious for avoiding any show of weakness, and CSI's weren't any better. Greg gently gave her a half hug- avoiding her injured arm- and let his hand linger on her arm. Finn knew that look.

"Well I'm going to process the back. I'm really glad you're okay Morgan." Finn gave her a half hug too before she left, leaving Greg and Morgan alone. They both knew what they wanted to say, but neither of them could figure out how to do it. They could feel it though. The air around them was just drenched in want. Morgan was tired of it though. Too long she had waited for opportunities to come to her- now was her chance for her to go to it. But Greg interrupted before she could follow through.

"Look, no one would look down on you if you took a couple days to get yourself straightened out." Greg felt like he was poking the bear. He could tell she was already about to attack someone herself. She had practically jumped Finn only seconds ago.

"This get's exhausting to tell, but I'm fine, okay? Got it? I don't need time off, I need to work so we can catch this guy before he attacks someone else. I can't just quit." Morgan couldn't stop herself from getting louder and angrier. She wanted to strangle that man, rip his throat out, or simply beat him to a living pulp. Right now, all this standing around wasn't getting that accomplished.

"I didn't think you would. We've all been through this before, and it's a hard decision. My suggestion is that you should go home, read a book or something to get your mind off of it and then go to work tomorrow. It helps to know that normal thing's still exist after someone strips you of your safety." Morgan was about to protest but thought it over and surrendered.

"Russell wouldn't let me do anything anyways." Greg nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, I got attacked 3 days ago and he's still not allowing me field duty until the neurologist gives the all clear." He paused, letting the silence surround them. "It does help to talk about it you know. If you need someone to listen I have some pretty amazing ears. And I owe you." Morgan halfheartedly smiled to the ground. Right then she made up her mind. It was time.

"When I got shot, I kept thinking _is this it?_ _Is this how I want my life to end?_ But it wasn't really the _how _I was worried about. It was the _end_. It was knowing I didn't at least try to do what I've wanted to do since I got here. " She said, her heart beating out of her chest.

"Morgan-"

"Let's have a breakfast date. Just you and me talking about things not related to work." This was the moment. The moment that would either make or break their entire relationship. She had finally took the leap and it had only taken a near death experience for her to do it.

Greg was taken aback and thrilled. His face lit up as he spurted, "Uh yeah, yes, of course." He completely forgot his current endangerment, completely forgot about the man in the alley. Right now Morgan was his entire world and nothing bad could ever happen. "I'll pick you up at 8 tomorrow morning."

She smiled awkwardly right back at him as butterflies flurried in her stomach. She had just been shot; but the start of a relationship made it a perfect day.

In that moment Brass walked up to them, completely oblivious to the absurdly happy CSI's and returned their thought's back on the job.

"Alright Morgan, are you ready to tell me what happened? Wait, Sanders what are you doing here?" Greg shuffled his feet in embarrassment.

"Oh, uhh I was just here to make sure Morgan was okay. I'd help but I haven't been cleared for field duty yet." Morgan's cheek's flushed.

That seemed to be enough reason for Brass as he returned his attention back to Morgan. She cleared her throat and explained everything that had happened.

"-the thing is, he only attacked me because he wanted to relay a message to us. Insurance." Brass stopped writing and looked up at her expecting a further explanation. "That's all he said. And then the police sirens rang and he took off." Meanwhile, Greg had gone numb. He sat down on the edge of the ambulance and stared out into space. The others didn't even notice. When Brass finished and left, Morgan turned around with a grin on her face.

"Sooo, where are you...wait what's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost- or someone ripping up a Sinatra record." She attempted a small joke to get him back to reality. When she had turned around, Greg was pale and silent.

Greg was raging inside. It was his fault. He had got her involved and now she was hurt because of him- because she was associated with him. _What would they do if I was dating her__? How far will they go next time?_ Greg felt like crying. His throat burned with the words that were stuck inside.

"Morgan...I can't go out with you tomorrow." Morgan's perfect day burst into oblivion.

"Did you forget about another date you had or something?" She didn't want to believe it. Just moment's ago they were finally closing the gap and now he was tearing it apart. Greg looked to the ground, ashamed of what he had to say.

"We can't be together." Morgan was angry- but more than that she was hurt. It felt like he was grabbing onto her heart and squeezing as hard as he could.

"If this is because of Ecklie-"

"No, no! It's not because of that, it's just...complicated. Now's not the best time for me."

"Well it was just a second ago." Morgan demanded an answer. She needed to know what had changed. Greg didn't know what to say. All he wanted to do was say 'just kidding!' and pull her into a tight hug and never let go. But he had to push her away. For her own protection.

"I just can't be with you right now. I'm sorry, but it won't work." She felt humiliated. She had finally admitted her feeling to him and not only did he stomp it into the ground, but he had given her hope and then caught it on fire. After her earlier encounter she couldn't hold her anger in any longer. She stood abruptly and slapped him hard in the face. Greg's left cheek became beat red where her hand had been. She couldn't believe what she had done, but she couldn't take it away. She stormed off on the verge of crying but holding it in for her ego's sake.

Greg just sat on the bumper allowing the pain to flow throughout his face, feeling like he deserved it, as he watched Morgan stomp away to her car and pull away. As he watched her leave, something was shining behind the tape and Greg soon realized it was the glass of binoculars reflecting the light. Greg squinted to get a better look and saw a man staring right back at him. Greg felt chills crawl up his spine as the man smiled at him and gave him a small wave.

He was being followed.

* * *

><p>AN: Just so you know, that attack in 09 is not the Fannysmackin' incident, it's one I am making up to add a little more surprises in it. It wouldn't have the same impact if you already knew what D.B was going to find out. :P

Reviews are wonderful encouragement. But as fellow writers I'm sure you're already aware of that. :)


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